


lie still upon his heart

by AceQueenKing



Category: Tekken (Video Games)
Genre: Attraction, Canonical Suicidal Ideation, Demonic Possession, M/M, Mutual Pining, Set pre-Tekken 6, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: It was not until  Jin caught himself making the elegant and elaborate up-sweep of Lar’s hair that he realized that he had, in fact, drawn an illustrative copy of his favorite soldier.Look at you, the Demon's voice sneered.You think me so unrestrained in my lusts but you yourself are practically dripping with it. At leastIknow how to sate my thirsts.
Relationships: Lars Alexandersson/Kazama Jin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	lie still upon his heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pirotess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirotess/gifts).



Jin closed his eyes and put both hands on his desk. _Won’t help_ , a voice deep within him whispered. He ignored it, tried to stare at the bonsai on his desk. _Do you think that can stop me?_ The voice sounded amused. Jin kept his eyes closed, refused to open them, as if denying its running commentary would make it easier to bear.

 _Was it you who drove my father to madness_? He wondered. He was afraid of the answer. Sometimes, he stared in the mirror and wondered just whether the resemblance between them was only skin-deep. Heihachi told him that, in his father’s brief but tumultuous time as chief executive, the Zaibatsu office had been covered in mirrors. “Can you believe it?” The old fool had sneered. “Your idiot father fancied himself so much it’s a damn miracle that he found time to pass his genes on.” At the time, Jin had laughed uneasily, the raw discomfort of being a bastard child, never known, making him all too aware of how volatile his status was in the Zaibatsu, and how much he had missed his mother.

Now he knew the truth of it. Kazuya wasn’t trying to look at himself; he was trying to see his _other_ self, the one that Jin could only see out of unfocused reflections and glimpses of memories he wished he hadn’t seen.

 _Why bother to fight it?_ If he had a mirror, Jin was certain he could see the demon’s inky claws sink into his back, feel the warm gust of laughter brushing against his ear. The demon was a part of him and yet not. _Your grandmother gave in. Your father gave in. Are they not happier for embracing me? They know who they are, what they are. Why not give in?_

“No,” he said. He pulled up some paperwork and tried to focus on it. New prototype designs for approval for mech suits; his eyes watered, staring at the costs. _You are meant for so many greater things than paperwork,_ the voice chided.

“Hmph,” Jin said, and tried to stare at the complex geometry of the body-shields, analyzing if this would put him perhaps ten percent ahead of the JACK units G Corporation favored. If they were better able to absorb their bullets or their punches…He doodled on one of the papers, trying to simultaneously understand the more complicated diagrams in an easier to understand method. Not to mention, it helped to simply focus on something that wasn’t the voice in the back of his mind. _Focus_ , his mother’s voice whispered in his mind; just a memory, long dead. But that didn’t mean her advice was wrong.

He tried to draw the ideal soldier; legs as powerful as Hwoarang’s, but as lithe as Xiaoyu; he drew the form in a number of complex movements, each one pivoting, rolling, running, jumping, concentrating on the musculature of the fantasy soldier as he sent it into hectically scribbled combat. It was not until he caught himself making the elegant and elaborate up-sweep of Lar’s hair that he realized he had, in fact, drawn an illustrative copy of his favorite soldier.

 _Look at you_ , the voice sneered. He would not name it, he would not. That would give the demon undue power. _You think me so unrestrained in my lusts but you yourself are practically **dripping** with it. At least I know how to sate my thirsts._ He balled his hands into fists; he did favor the man, certainly. It was hard not to.

Lars had done his best to hide it, but he’d seen hints in the lightning in the man’s blood, that power that cascaded down his wrists. Jin knew that power. Had always known that power to be something that belonged only to his accursed paternal ancestors.

But Lars – Lars was something different. Blond-haired but not entirely foreign, he never seemed to give in to the impulses that marked the worst of the Mishima clan, despite the shared lightning in his blood. For a time, Jin wondered if they were related – perhaps Lars was created one of Kazuya's careless one-night stands during his underground fighting tournament days, as Jin himself was – but Lars’ medical charts showed no sign of the Devil gene.

And Jin _had_ checked. _Oh yes, you looked so closely_ , the demon whispered. _Such a diligent boss_.

He sighed; his other half was in a foul mood, hungry for blood. It would take it on the battlefield – easier, there, to have his fill, and none of Kazuya’s few human foot soldiers were anything remotely close to innocent. At times, he wondered if Kazuya knew he satisfied his demon’s lust there and thus relied on robots to deliberately starve him.

A memory itched – not one of his own; _red eyes not his own stare out over the mirrored darkness, glowing underneath the skin, you’re nothing nothing **nothing** without me, without my power, power is everything everything **everything** – _and he slammed his hand down on the desk. “Don’t show me stories,” he muttered.

A good thing there was no security in the office or they’d think he was insane.

There was a knock on the door; he sat up a little straighter, buzzed the door. He’d get rid of them quickly. The demon was not good company for him, let alone anyone else.

His hopes of getting them gone quickly sunk to the floor as Lars came in, full armor on.

“Sir,” he said, snapping in a quick one-two salute. _Look at those hands_ , the demon whispered, all but slavering in his ear. _Firm and strong. He could hold **you**._ And for half a second Jin thought of it, Lars’ hands on his thighs, Lars’ fingers tight on his hips, leaving marks. _Aren’t you quite the little whore?_ The demon intoned.

Jin shook his head. “Yes?” The word came out cold; Lars didn’t blink at it, all too used to his ature. Which was another reason that Jin liked him: Lars could withstand his frost.

“Sir,” Lars looked a bit more uncomfortable; Jin gave him a weary sweep of his hand to indicate that he should sit. Lars did so, but said nothing. “Are we live right now, sir?” He looked up, as if Jin would be so obvious as to broadcast where any recording devices were.

“No.” Matter of fact, he spent ages ripping out the surveillance details in this office, in the penthouse above it. Some of the tech was obviously Heihachi’s – but some of it was not; some were VHS set-ups, obviously set up during his father’s time. Trying to see something, Jin knew, that only existed in the back of his mind.

“Good.” Lars put his hands on the edge of Jin’s desk. The demon inside him swarmed in anger: _see how he touches that which isn’t his? He thinks he could own you._ His own fists tighten in control. Stop, he thought, loud as he could. Lars continues on, blessedly oblivious. “I’ve been worried about you, Jin-sama.”

“What?” His head jerked up, surprised; Lars leaned forward more, his hand a tempting invitation writ large over the large, ancient wood of the Mishima desk. _What a delightful temptation_ , the demon purred in his ear. _You ought to teach him a lesson for such insolence. Break it, eat it, tear it off with his raw screams the perfect encapsulation of your pleasure…_ He shook his head, took a deep breath. _Focus. Focus_. He tried to recall his mother’s spirit – but it did no good.

“You haven’t left this office in _days_ ,” Lars said. “And the secretary says you’ve turned down any offer to order out.”

“That’s not your business,” Jin said, flatly. He hadn’t been aware of being in his office so long; the demon brayed laughter in his mind. _Ah, Jin, so simple, so easy to manipulate…_ He frowned, shook his head. Wondered what Lars was making of this.

“It is my business when you’re a soldier who fights with us.” Lars gives him a small smile, all awkward-grace. _Don’t you wonder if you could make it bloom larger? Perhaps while he’s above you, fucking you on this heavy desk. It will stand for it, oh yes….But perhaps there is a better way. Maybe we should paint this desk with his blood; keep a part of him with you forever, and ever. Prove your power is stronger than his_. “A unit is only as good as its soldiers, and, no offense sir, but if you’re neglecting yourself, you’re neglecting us all.”

“You should know –know your place.” Jin ground out. The demon continued, unabated. _Kiss him, bite his tongue! Let it run red, let him scream as you drink his blood. Why waste time playing submissive when we all know you ache to be the dominant force in the universe? Power is everything. Power is **everything**._

 _“Sir!”_ Jin’s vision started to fade, he knew what was coming, knew – knew that Lars would _see_ , that Lars would _know_ – and tried to ignore the bloodlust that rose within him. His claws burst forth from his hands and he tried to bring them under the desk but not fast enough – Jin felt woozy, knew the demon was taking over. _Power is **everything**_ **.** “I _will_ show you pain,” came out of his teeth, but Jin knew it was not _him_ saying it.

Lars charged forward, and Jin’s vision went black.

* * *

He woke up with a sick feeling in his mouth – the awkwardly metallic taste that he associated with a numbing agent of some kind. His ceiling loomed large from a couch on the side of the Zaibatsu’s CEO office; the world looked to be on its side, and he felt a sense of vertigo that left him even more woozy. His shirt was torn to shreds; his pants, thankfully, were salvageable, only a few rips.

“Feeling better?” He turned; Lars was there, a cigarette half in his mouth. It took him by surprise, that; he’d never seen the man smoking. So much so that it took Jin several more moments to realize that Lars had shaken off the top half of his armor; that he strode, confidently, with nothing on but the bottom half of his armor. He was transfixed looking at Lars for a long moment, so dumbfounded by the surrealness that it took him over a full minute of staring at Lars’ lips, soft pink against the crisp white of the cigarette, which was held by arms full of well-scarred and well-muscled – he had _seen_ him. The thought did not so much sluggishly rise to the surface as it _slammed_ from his subconscious to the forefront of his mind, the demonic cackle underneath it.

“I can—” He tried to stand, felt woozy; realized, then, that he _had_ been drugged. Lars had _drugged_ him, and Jin knew that wasn’t Zaibatsu standard gear.

Lars had anticipated this – how? Surveillance? _Treasonous snake._ The demon in him hissed. _Teach him a lesson, show him it is you who hold the power_ –

“No,” he said, distracted; Lars strode over to him, and he wondered: was this how it ended? Not to die at Kazuya’s claws, but instead Lars’ mercies?

The thought was not so horrible, he thought. Perhaps a mercy. He was not afraid to die.

“It’s alright,” Lars said; the soldier smiled, and that was worse than death. There was something tight in that smile, a discomfort, a pity, but his eyes revealed nothing. He took a step to Jin, pressed his shoulders back down into the bed. Jin thought more obscene thoughts, and the Demon within him growled for release, but the tranquilizer held the demon in his blood farther from his mind.

“Rest,” Lars said; his hand stayed too long on Jin’s head, and he did not miss the way Lars swallowed as he stood, blue eyes suddenly focusing only on the door. “I’ll look in on you later, boss,” he said, and his hand stayed on the holster at his side.

 _He has seen, you have no choice!_ The demon hissed. _Rend his bones, drink his blood!_

“No,” Jin slurred, and closed his eyes instead.

He would see his purpose through. Perhaps, if he was lucky enough, Lars would remain by his side until the fight against his father was done; it meant little, in the end. Power was everything; either he would maintain it, or Lars would wrest it from him. So be it. _Foolish child_ , the demon hissed; he laughed.

Lars deserved better than a world filled with demons. If Jin could bring that to him, in some small way, he would.


End file.
